


How's That for Gratitude

by Cheloya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheloya/pseuds/Cheloya
Summary: Old, imported. Narcissa receives a gift.





	How's That for Gratitude

She knew from the twist to Bellatrix’s lips that there was something extremely humiliating on the way from the moment her sister slipped through the door. Not wanting to give Bella the satisfaction of seeing her trepidation, Narcissa returned her eyes to the novel in her hands, and waited.  
  
As expected, it did not take long before Bella had sidled up to her armchair and draped herself along the high back. Narcissa finished the page, slipped her wand inside the book to mark it, and raised her face to look at her sister. “Something you wanted, Bella?”  
  
Four years older, but not, at this point, very much more mature, Bellatrix tilted her head to one side, her long hair tumbling over the back of the chair and down onto Narcissa’s collar. She had a lazy grin on her face and, Narcissa realised with a faint buzz of suspicion, her left hand was hidden very purposefully behind her back.  
  
“Guess what I have,” she sing-songed lightly. Narcissa’s expression of irritation did not change, but only through sheer force of will.  
  
“What do you have?” she asked obediently, though not with much apparent interest. She flipped the novel open again, as though she would start reading it again. Bellatrix’s grin widened, and something behind her… rustled. Narcissa raised one eyebrow as a faint but easily recognisable scent reached her; it was something she had been receiving as a gift since infancy. Say what you would about pure blood wizards: they were not creative about their celebrations.  
  
“Narcissus?” she asked drily. “For me? You shouldn’t have.”  
  
“Not from me.” Bella rolled her eyes and slid around the lounge. “And not just narcissus, either.” She brought the bouquet out in front of her, and a small stream of black and silver ribbons cascaded immediately into Narcissa’s lap, tickling her hands. The bouquet itself was simplistic: yellow narcissus, peppered with red and pink peony, with here and there a thread of mauve daphne.  
  
Narcissa reached for it, gathering it to her slowly before she looked up at her sister. “Who?” she queried, intrigued by such an eloquent arrangement, and Bella’s eyes gleamed.  
  
“Well, I wish I knew,” she said lightly. “But apparently they’re skilled enough to write words for you, and no one else.”  
  
Narcissa tipped the bouquet back, curious, and brushed a finger against the small scroll in the froth of ribbon. It unfurled itself at her touch, and she smirked a smirk that was very nearly a true smile as familiar writing began to seep across the surface of the parchment.  
  
“Ah,” she said, and touched it with her wand to refurl the thing. “Kreacher,” she addressed the room at large, and with the smallest possible crack, the house elf appeared at her side. “In a vase on my dresser.” Another rush of air, and he and the bouquet were both gone.  
  
“Thankyou, Bella,” she murmured graciously to her sister, and went back to her book, smiling at her sister’s obvious frustration.

**Author's Note:**

> The bouquet indicates humility, a desire to please, prosperity, and devotion.


End file.
